a selfish beast to ask you to go. Good-bye, old girl! If
I don't find that case, perhaps you'll never see me again!"

"Morland! Morland!" called Lorraine.

But his khaki-clad figure was already tearing along the steep track up
the cliff, and he did not look round. In another moment he had vanished
behind a turn of the rocks.

Lorraine sank down on the seat inside the lychgate. She felt mean at
not walking with him, but the afternoon was sultry and hot, and she was
very tired after her yesterday's adventures. She knew that he had gone
on a fruitless errand, and that, though it might satisfy him to look on
his own account, he would certainly not find the missing pocket-case
inside the cave.

"Oh! why didn't I make a stand at the time, and insist on his giving it
back to Captain Blake at once!" she fretted. "I wish I'd more strength
of mind! I was a weak jelly-fish. He'd have done it if I'd held out
more. What's going to happen now, goodness only knows! When he sees that
the case really isn't there, I'm afraid he'll do something really
desperate, run away, or jump into the sea, or anything. It's the worst
fix I've ever been in, in all my life. Could I take the blame on myself?
It was as much my fault as his. I'm certainly what would be called an
accomplice. I wish I could ask Detective Scott about it, but I daren't.
Morland might be arrested, like that spy. Oh! it's too horrible to think
he may be court-martialled! Will they put him in prison? Shoot him,
even?"

Lorraine's notions of military discipline were hazy, but she knew that
the keeping back of important papers was an offence of the utmost
seriousness, and that if they had fallen into the hands of a spy it
might mean a charge of treason. Wild visions of saving Morland at any
cost floated through her mind. She felt almost prepared to give herself
up to the police and make a confession. Yet how could she do so without
involving her friends? She would certainly be asked if she had picked up
the case herself, and why she had not returned it immediately to its
owner. What would she answer?

"They'd have it all out of me in five minutes when they began
cross-questioning, and I should only land Morland in a worse mess than
ever," she decided gloomily. "Could Uncle Barton help, I wonder? No, as
a special constable he'd be bound to give information. He's no more use
than Detective Scott!"

Lorraine sighed, and moved farther along the seat into the shade. It was
a b